


Food Fantasy Flash Fic Collection

by Satan In Purple (purple_satan)



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, F/M, Sex Pollen, Tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-12 01:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15984263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_satan/pseuds/Satan%20In%20Purple
Summary: A collection of flashfic from my blog@food-fantasy-support-group. Feel free toread the FAQ'sand thensubmit your own prompts!





	1. Love is Just a Bloodsport (Red Wine x Master Attendant)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Red Wine unable to resist the urge to drink the Master Attendant's blood. One day he snaps and pins them against the wall demanding a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @sweet-apple-tee on tumblr!

_“Master, please.”_

Red Wine’s voice is rough, crimson eyes having taken on a predatory gleam, as he backs you into the wall.  His arms are bracketing you on both sides, trapping you. 

Turning your head you see his sharp nails, normally covered by gloves, dig gouges into the drab restaurant wallpaper as you try to wriggle out of his grasp unsuccessfully. You had completely forgotten about his immense strength. That is until reminded again just now and he leans against you bodily, using his own weight to keep you in place and you stop, mortified at the amount of contact. 

Moving your hair out of the way, you freeze in terror as he inhales deeply. Feeling the press of his lips against the delicate skin, your blood runs cold as his teeth scrape ever so gently across your neck.

“Every month—no, _every day_ —you torture me,” he says, warm breath ghosting the shell of your ear as he exhales shakily. _“Why can’t you just stay away from me?”_

“Because I want to help you! Aren’t we in this together?”

Slamming his fist against the wall, flakes of plaster fall to the floor as you hear the crack continue up the wall, under the wallpaper. He inhales again, sharper this time.

“Help? Together? _Tch,_ ” he spits. “What if it turns me into one of them? This craving for blood—this craving for _you._ ”

Squeezing your eyes shut you exhale, as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. You reach a shaky hand up to run it through his purple locks and he hums at the touch, your nails gently scratching at his scalp and letting the loose ponytail he normally wears his hair in flow free as you feel the tension coiled in his body slowly dissipate with your gentle touches.

“You’re the only one I’d ever beg.”

“I believe in you, Red. You’ll make it through this— _we will make it through this.”_

The laugh that escapes his lips sounds hollow as his soft lips press against your collarbone, your sternum. His eyelashes tickle your skin and gooseflesh covers your arms as he presses feather-light kisses to the exposed skin. You smile, hoping his mood has lifted as he reaches your jaw, then finally your lips and you find out he tastes not just like wine, but also faintly coppery. The two of you share your first kiss together and it's everything you'd hoped it to be, slow and sensual like he's drinking you until he gets his fill. That is until you feel his sharp teeth nip at your lip for more access to your mouth and things get hotter as he presses against you and a fluttering sensation fills your stomach. 

Your bodies move, running on instinct as he continues to kiss you, each becoming a bit rougher than the last and the taste of copper becomes stronger, your own blood filling your mouth only to be licked away by his clever tongue and he continues until you’re left breathless. Once he finally pulls away, he’s smiling at you and you realize he could easily be called ‘devilishly handsome’ were it not for the fact his teeth were stained crimson.

He licks his lips with an uncharacteristically loud smack, then wipes them on the back of his hand. His eyes are slit, catlike, as his tongue darts out to salaciously lick his hand clean in front of your wide eyes and you feel your body respond to his taunting.

“That might have been the wrong answer, pet.”

Before you can react, he moves lightning fast. You feel a sharp pain and hear a crunch as he bites down hard. His arms wrap around you, cradling your head. Locks of silky hair slip between his fingers and a rivulet of blood runs down your collarbone he boldly licks, before fastening his lips back on your neck with a growl. Your head swims as you feel both pleasure and pain, knees threatening to give out as your vision dims. 

Red Wine, your most trusted food soul, holds you close in a parody of a heartfelt embrace you weakly return, and as you slip into unconsciousness you wonder if the fact he finally let the bloodlust he’s staved off for decades consume him really is your fault.


	2. If You Don't Like the Heat, Stay Out of the Fire (Steak x Master Attendant)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't stray off the path was the first thing they told you as a kid, you'll never know what might happen or what you might walk into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anonymous who asked for and i'll just post the ask verbatim: 
> 
> _"Okay so idk if ur as thirsty for steak as I am but I cant stop thinking about this since even before I pulled him; hes considered brash and tactless right? So imagine him just getting absurdly horny an possessive while hes out with his MA and he just, can't wait till they're back at home so he just pulls them off somewhere secluded and fucks them till they cant walk and hes sastisfied."_
> 
>  i added the sex pollen trope because i'd like to think steak would at least not manhandle a lady if he could help it.

You weren’t sure exactly what was wrong with you and your team.

Red Wine’s eyes were glazed over, and he was nearly salivating every time your eyes met. Steak was even more irritable than normal, practically pushing you along the path, complaining that he needed to get back immediately. And Black Tea and Milk kept shooting each other unreadable glances, the normally stoic couple with their eyes averted, both blushing heavily.

And you, you were in _absolute hell._

What started at first as an itchy feeling under your skin had morphed into a pit of molten lava in your stomach, nerves sizzling every time you took a step and your clothed thighs brushed together. Gripping at the neck of your shirt, you tried to undo the collar and let yourself have some air to cool down as sweat rolled down your temples to your neck, disappearing into the fabric.

Red was the first to notice, nostrils flaring and eyes glued to the newly uncovered patch of delicate skin, moving to hover around you which caused Steak to shove you even more forcefully along the path, just out of his reach. In fact, it seemed only Gingerbread was the one unaffected, though by the grim look on her face you could tell she knew something was wrong with the situation.

“Master, if I may be so bold as to say, we should probably stop instead of continuing,” Red trails off, shaking you from your stupor. Eyes glittering like rubies in the setting suns rays, he sheaths his rapier and frowns. “Loathe as I am to admit, we’re unlikely to find lodgings but we may find temporary shelter.”

“Shelter?” You echo dumbly, wringing your hands, trying to keep them from plucking at your sweaty clothing. Gingerbread shoots you a nervous look while Steak looks like he ready to murder Red Wine on the spot.

“ _Yes._ You seem to look,” he drags his eyes up and down your body, giving you a smile full of sharp teeth that have you shivering. “In need of rest.”

You glance at the rest of your team, eyes darting to their own disheveled states. Even poor Milk looks like she’s going to break at this rate, Black Tea gripping her hand tightly as they speak to each other in hushed tones. When you meet his eyes the look Steak gives you could burn holes right through you as your gazes lock. Licking your lips nervously, you feel the tension in the air crackling around everyone finally coming to a head, waiting for the right moment to break.

“I need to talk to the Master,” Steak finally announces loudly, as Black Tea and Milk look up at you, clearly startled. Dragging you by the wrist away from Red Wine and the others, you hear everyone complain, but stay where they are. As you resist, Steak instead opts for throwing you over his shoulder none gently, the action reminding you of hefting around a sack of potatoes.

“Steak! Stop it!” You exclaim, beating on his back with your fists. “I can walk! Jesus, _what the hell is wrong with everybody today?”_

“He was going to bite you,” he finally grits once you are both out of earshot, the hand on the back of your thigh gripping it even harder as he stomps away with you and you feel it like a brand on your skin. “I don;t care how much you like him, I can’t allow it in either of your states.”

It feels like a flimsy excuse at best, the rivalry between the two well known and extending to even bickering over your attention. Looking down though, you flush realizing he knows exactly the discomfort you are going through and wanting to excuse himself, as you gaze down to see the cloth of his pants tented rather uncomfortably.

“Poison,” he mutters. “Some aphrodisiac…”

Once the group is well within the distance and you can no longer even see where they are, Steak stops walking once he finds the mouth of a cave, an impatient noise leaving his mouth as he huffs and sets you down. As he does, you notice the fine covering of what you assumed was dust from the dirt trail you were walking on swirl off of you. It makes a path in the air, little eddies and swirls as it goes back into the air with a faintly sweet aroma, only to settle back onto you both.

 _“Pollen,”_  you groan, the back of your head hitting the rock wall of the cave he stopped at as you remember the field you all cut across except Gingerbread, who kept happily skipping on the path ahead of you all. “I’m allergic. I feel feverish, like my body is on fire and I feel so—”

“Horny,” he replies cutting you off, pinning you against the wall and you inhale more of the spores as the fabric of your clothes and the press of your bodies crushes the lingering pollen on the two of you

“Well, I wasn’t going to say it because of the—” you bite your bottom lip and trail off, vaguely gesturing at his head, despite the lack of space. “But,  _yeah.”_

You open your mouth to say something else, but its probably for the best its greedily devoured by his own mouth, as the two of you kiss feverishly and you conveniently don’t end up sticking your foot in your mouth. Finally, finding some reprieve for the heat being stoked in your veins, you grab onto his clothing, bunching up swaths of it in your hands. You try to pull him closer but he resists you each time.

“I’ll try my best,” he grits out, trying to hold back his hands and failing, once you boldly guide them to the fastenings of your own clothes and smile into the kiss. “To be gentle.... with you....unless....”

You nod your head, hand coming up to tug at his hair and his mouth moves from your lips to your chest, one of his horns scratching your neck as he groans impatiently, trying to both kiss you and make sure not to harm you further with them.

“I’m so hot,” you tell him, as your blood sings each time his fingertips and lips skip along your burning skin. “I need—”

“You need—” he trails off, sucking bruises into the thin skin covering your collarbone.

_“—you to—”_

_“—me to—"_

You gasp as his fingers dig into your hip bones and he pulls back, staying tantalizingly just out of reach as he lets you finish your sentence, eyes burning with lust.

" _Argh,_ spit it out, Master! I don't have all day!”

 _“—take off my clothes,”_ you finally finish, voice huskier than its usual tone. It’s the last coherent thought in your mind and you hope it’s clear you’re consenting to things going further, as you slip your fingers under his jacket and map his sweaty skin.  Rubbing your thighs together, it feels like there’s a furnace between them. And Steak's close enough you can feel his heat, see the sweat running down his neck and the shallow inhalations of breath he’s taking. “For starters.”

Sliding a thigh between your own, he pins your wrists to the wall, looking down at you imperiously.

“A—are you going to bite me?” You ask, noticing his gaze dart to your neck and back to your lips.

“No, I’m going to fuck you,” he says, looming over you with a smug look. “I’m going to fuck you until we’re both satisfied and you can’t actually walk back.”

Gulping nervously, you nod your head. Both desire and fear course through your veins, as you smile a touch deviously about the unexpected results of your earlier detour.


	3. A Few Small Repairs (B-52 x Master Attendant)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> B-52 learns more about being human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @madmabari on tumblr!

“You’re lucky I’m a decent mechanic,” they tell him, testing how the wing unfurls, tongue stuck between their teeth in concentration as they tighten a screw and then test it again. “This battle death wish of yours would otherwise be the end of me.”

“Master, I do not understand. You wish to succeed in battle. We achieved that.”

They roll their eyes, moving on to the next part of his wing with a heavy sigh. “Some catacombs sweeping isn’t worth your life, B. Save the heroics or—”

He remembers the days of being turned on and off on a whim, as they stop mid-sentence to tighten another screw. Long days of being on standby. How his parts would creak once he would move again, sluggishly until he was oiled. Now he never has to feel like that. He is a body constantly in motion, constantly doing. And now, thanks to his newest Master Attendant, constantly maintained. There is no data for him to use when dealing with them. It continues to surprise him, the differences between them and his first master, them and Spaghetti. The master is soft where it counts but still manages to have a leader's backbone of steel, even though logic tells him its an error that they dote on him so much. _Too much energy expended in his maintenance means—_

“You’ll replace me,” he finishes. “Logical.”

“No!” They blurt out, waving the screwdriver in his face with a frown. “I absolutely was _not_ going to say _that!_ What I was going to say is I’ll have to learn how to take better care of you or find an expert to show me how.”

“I do not wish to be trouble.”

“You’re not. Trouble is Steak and Red Wine arguing over the littlest of slights. Trouble is Boston complaining about the heat only he can feel. Trouble is Crab Long Bao trying to drink himself to death when no one is looking," they huff with a pained expression. "I just wish I could keep up with your repairs.”

“Why?”

Sometimes the simplest question is the most efficient. He continues to look at them, an unblinking stare they avoid, blush rising to their cheeks.

“I guess I just really like you, B,” they tell him, patting the now fixed wing and moving on to the next part in need of repair. While he wasn’t the first food soul they summoned, he was one of the few that they constantly took out to battle and so they both got used to this routine of him being looked over and fixed after. They told him it was because he and Vodka worked well together _**{Lie: not detected}**_ so the pair would be going out more often along with their old team of Milk, Black Tea, and Crab Long Bao.

 _B,_  they call him, not B-52 Cocktail. They’ve shortened his name.

Logic tells him its out of convenience, but it feels like something else too.

_Is this what human friendship feels like?_

_**{Error: invalid command line. Data: null.}** _

“Master, what is the purpose of enjoying me beyond my use?”

They’re behind him now, checking the joints that attach to his back and he can feel gentle fingers run over where skin meets metal, oiling the joints. A feeling he doesn’t have a name for sizzles through his veins like the blue flames of his cane, as they continue their work.

“That’s hard to explain, B. You’re not a machine or a tool to me, you’re my friend.”

Brownie had said something similar to him in the past. And similar to now, he did not understand.

**_{System Error: invalid command. Batch return: undetermined. Try again? }_ **

“You’re someone trying their best,” they continue. Their hands are small and warm as they unbutton his shirt, gently probing and mapping his chest for any injuries. “And even though your heart doesn’t beat exactly the same way as mine, it’s still full of good, full of kindness.”

“Perhaps I should read more about morality to understand.”

“You could,” they say, moving closer so the gap between their bodies is smaller than normal, the master’s eyes dilating and nostrils flaring only slightly as they look him in the eyes. “Or… you said you want to know what being human is like, right?”

“Yes.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I’m aware of the practice.”

“I figured as much,” they chuckle as they raise a hand to brush his cheek. “But I want to make sure you’re okay with it. Remember when we talked about consent and how you’re allowed to not always agree with everything I say?”

“You pointed out Red Wine and Boston Lobster as examples. I do not wish to emulate their behavior.”

They give a snort before looking at him, hand moving down from his cheek to rest lightly on his shoulder.  

“B, what do  _you_  want?“

They say this with an audible sigh, lips now tilted in a wry smile. "I’ve tried my damnedest to figure it out so you don’t get hurt so much. Sometimes it scares me I might lose you.”

_Loss._

He's not sure he wants to contemplate that.

In fact, what he wants is to not have a philosophical debate with the master after they so graciously have repaired his wing again. What he wants is to continue to be useful— _no, that’s not the right word, they would tell him, eyes sad and_   _he doesn’t like the look on their face when they’re sad about something he’s done or said—_

Placing a hand on the back of the master’s head and the other on the small of their back, he leans in and brushes his lips against theirs, retrieving all the data of human courtship he’s compiled. Human mouths are warm, wet, and strange mashing together to show affection. He patiently lets the master guide him through how lips and tongues are supposed to touch, but teeth aren’t, as they make noises that would normally give way to concern, but do not stop. He continues until they pull away, breathing heavily.

“I forgot you don’t have to breathe,” they reply sheepishly, cheeks pink and lips rosy. Heart rate elevated even more than before, similar to when they are in battle. He can hear their human heart so unlike his thumping loudly in their chest, like its waiting to burst free. Placing a curious hand over it, he feels the steady rhythm underneath his palm.

“Its—that’s okay,” they tell him, brushing hair out of his eyes and giving him a smile. “It’s normal when you enjoy kissing for that to happen.”

They make him feel human, the way they smile at him. The way their nose wrinkles up, not in disgust at how different he is, but in humor and exasperation when they see a part of him broken after a fight the healers can’t fix.

“I performed well?”

“Quite,” they say with a laugh, resting their forehead against his. “You’re a natural. Even without the biological necessity behind attraction.”

He hums as the master twines their fingers together, squeezing gently. This feeling, the opposite of pain somehow giving him just as much life. His master closes their eyes, letting out a content sigh, as he realizes he wants more so he kisses them again, this time a bit more forceful since he’s the one leading. They gasp in his mouth, clearly startled, before returning the kiss back just as fervently and the fire he felt now takes on even more heat, embers from before crackling as the blue flames reach new heights inside of him, licking at his skin everywhere the master touches him.

He feels not just human, but  _alive._

He pulls away gently first, voice low and steady as he looks at them and feels more irrational than he's ever felt before.

“I’ll need your guidance to continue, I am unsure beyond diagrams what I am to do now,” he tells them quietly. Stilling his hands on their hips, they give him a mischievous smile. “Please be direct in your instructions.”

“Okay, B,” they tell him, pushing his unbuttoned shirt off of his shoulders.

They pull him in for another kiss he gladly returns.

“If you say so, _I will.”_

**Author's Note:**

> i can't believe i actually write soft porn about food, food porn. anyway come find me [@food-fantasy-support-group](http://food-fantasy-support-group.tumblr.com) if you want to yell at me for being a heathen, i don't mind.


End file.
